Every year, the calendar creates the same pressure point. Christmas and New Year’s crowd the week. Travel ramps up. Volunteers are tired. Families are stretched. Pastors and staff feel the weight of one more service, one more Sunday that requires everyone to be “on.”
And then the language starts to appear online and sometimes in local circles: “We’re taking a sabbath this weekend.” In plain terms, it often means, “We’re not meeting as a church on Sunday.”
I want to respond with grace, because real people and real burdens sit behind these decisions. But I also want to respond with clarity, because the way we talk about this matters, and what we normalize shapes the spiritual instincts of our congregations for years to come.
The first issue is simple: words matter. In Scripture, “Sabbath” is not a synonym for a weekend off. The Sabbath was the seventh day, tied to God’s pattern of creation and given to Israel as a covenant sign. Christians have long distinguished between the Sabbath and “the Lord’s Day,” the first day of the week when the church gathered to worship in light of Jesus’ resurrection. My point is not to pick a fight over terminology. My point is to be honest. When we call a canceled Sunday service a “sabbath,” we can unintentionally baptize something ordinary with spiritual language. It sounds like obedience when it may simply be a schedule decision.
The second issue is deeper. The gathered worship of the church is not a nice extra. It is not an optional program. It is one of God’s primary means of grace for His people. Through the assembly, God feeds His church by His Word, strengthens faith through prayer, deepens love through fellowship, and steadies saints through singing truth together. This is not about checking a box. It is about a rhythm that forms us.
When we casually remove that rhythm, we often, without intending to, train our people to treat the gathering as negotiable. We teach them that the church convenes when it is convenient, and that discipleship can be paused when the season gets full. The problem is that life never stops presenting full seasons. If the church’s gathering becomes one more activity to fit into the holiday schedule, we should not be surprised when it is treated like every other activity. It becomes something you do if you are not too tired, not too busy, not traveling, and not needing a break. The logic sounds harmless in December, but it does not stay in December.
I think the temptation will only grow in the next few years. In 2026, Christmas Day is a Friday. In 2027, it is a Saturday. In 2028, it lands on a Monday, and the pattern repeats itself for New Year's Day. That means churches will increasingly face a real decision point about the Sunday nearest Christmas. Will we gather in the normal Lord’s Day rhythm, or will we treat that Sunday as flexible because “everyone already did Christmas,” or because “the team needs a break,” or because “attendance will be low anyway”? Those pressures will not feel theoretical. They will feel practical, compassionate, even reasonable. That is why we need to think clearly now, before the moment arrives.
It is also worth noting that, given the upcoming schedule, it may not be Christmas Sunday that becomes the primary temptation. For some churches, the greater pressure may come the following week when the Sunday gathering falls close to the New Year. For us in the United States, the week between Christmas and New Year’s is the most disrupted of the year. People are traveling again, routines are already off, volunteers are scarce, and leaders are tempted to view that Sunday as an easy day to “give everyone a break.” In other words, the temptation to cancel may slide forward on the calendar from Christmas itself to the Sunday around New Year’s. The same pastoral questions still apply, and the same instincts will be tested.
Now, I want to be fair. Rest matters. Pastors can burn out. Volunteers can be overused. Churches can quietly cultivate a culture in which the same people carry the load, leading to exhaustion and resentment. I do not want to shame the need for rest. In fact, I want to defend it. Healthy pastors and healthy volunteers are a gift to the church. A church that ignores limits will eventually hurt people.
But the answer to exhaustion is usually not cancellation of the gathering. The better answer is repentance: we have normalized overwork, built fragile systems, and lost the wisdom to simplify what never needed to be complicated.
It is worth noting that the churches most likely to cancel are often not the small churches with one pastor and a handful of faithful servants. It is frequently the larger churches with multiple staff and extensive weekend machinery. This observation is not meant to sneer at big churches. Large churches often do outstanding gospel work. But it should make us ask hard questions about the kind of ministry model we have created.
A larger church may have more staff, but it can also carry more complexity. It can create a Sunday that requires an entire production chain: multiple volunteer teams, many moving parts, high expectations, and services that cannot be easily simplified without making someone feel that something important has been taken away. In that environment, Sunday can begin to function like an event we produce rather than a gathering we prioritize. If Sunday requires a small army to run, then it becomes vulnerable. When volunteers are tired, the whole system groans. The temptation then is to turn off the system for a week and call that “rest.”
As one pastor speaking to another, I want to say plainly: I think that is a mistake.
Here is why. Scripture has several moments in which God treats the meaning of an action and the heart behind it as weighty, because the action proclaims something. God is not indifferent to signs, symbols, and holy patterns He has established for His people. When people act in a way that distorts what God is revealing about Himself, His holiness, or His saving plan, the consequences often land hard.
Think of Moses in Numbers 20. God told him to speak to the rock, but Moses struck the rock instead. Water still came, but Moses misrepresented God in the moment, and the cost was severe. He was not allowed to enter the Promised Land. Think of King Saul in 1 Samuel 13. Under pressure, he offered the sacrifice instead of waiting for Samuel. His action preached a message about whether God could be trusted and whether God’s order mattered, and the Lord took the kingly line away from him. Think of Achan in Joshua 7, who took what was devoted to God and hid it for personal use. His private act preached contempt for God’s holiness, and the consequences spread beyond him. Think of Eli’s household, and his sons Hophni and Phinehas, who treated offerings with contempt and used priestly privilege for exploitation. They corrupted the holy office, and God judged their house.
Move into the New Testament, and the theme continues. In 1 Corinthians 11, the Lord’s Supper was abused. The wealthy shamed the poor, and the church fractured along lines of status. The ordinance meant to proclaim Christ and our unity in Him was turned into a display of self, and God did not take it lightly. Or consider Herod in Acts 12, receiving worship and accepting the people’s flattery that he was the voice of a god. He welcomed a lie about glory, and judgment fell.
Let me be careful. We live in an age of grace. I am not saying God will close your church or end your ministry if you cancel a Sunday morning worship service. I am not trying to create panic or pretend that every decision has immediate catastrophic consequences. But I am saying this: God takes holy symbols seriously, and the gathered church on the Lord’s Day is one of the primary symbols of this church age. Week after week, the church’s assembly preaches. It preaches that Jesus is Lord. It preaches that His people are not consumers but a body. It preaches that our lives are ordered around worship, not around convenience. It preaches that the Word of God and the praises of God matter more than our comfort. It preaches that Christ is building His church.
So if we normalize canceling worship because we are tired, or because the schedule is inconvenient, or because the holiday weekend is crowded, we may be preaching something we do not intend. We may be preaching that gathering is optional. We may be preaching that comfort outranks mission. We may be preaching that the church’s worship is negotiable in a way that everything else in the community is not.
There is a healthier path, and it is both pastoral and practical. Instead of canceling, simplify. Meet with less polish. Reduce the moving parts. Make it easier on volunteers. Shorten the service if needed. Choose songs that do not require extensive rehearsal. Adjust the children’s ministry to be responsible and safe, while being lighter on workers. Let the extras rest without letting the assembly rest. Provide a simple home worship guide for travelers that reinforces, rather than replaces, the priority of gathering. Lead your people to see that we gather not because it is convenient, but because Christ is worthy.
At the same time, address the deeper issue. If your church cannot gather without exhausting everyone, that is not a reason to cancel worship. It is a reason to reform the system. Protect days off. Build rotations. Train more leaders. Say no to unnecessary additions. Reduce complexity as a policy, not as a yearly emergency move. People will adjust, and many will be relieved. A simpler Sunday can be a stronger Sunday when it rests on the ordinary means of grace rather than constant production.
Finally, we should allow the global church to steady our perspective. Many believers around the world gather at significant cost. In some places, it takes courage to attend church. Their weekly gathering is not a convenient religious option. It is a costly act of allegiance to Jesus. We should not use their suffering to shame others, but let it humble us. Their faithfulness should make us slow to treat gathering as a luxury item.
The world does not need a church that gathers only when it is convenient. It needs a church that worships Jesus with steady joy, that rests wisely without neglecting the assembly, and that chooses mission over comfort, especially when it would be easier to stay home.
If we need to scale back, let us scale back. If we need to simplify, let us simplify. If we need to rest, let us rest. But let us not casually treat as optional what God has made central. The gathered worship of the church is not a disposable tradition. It is a living testimony that Christ is risen, Christ is reigning, and Christ is worth ordering our lives around.

